The French Were on to Something
by Haurvatat
Summary: Zeus has closed off Olympus and abandoned Camp Half-Blood. Percy is not what you'd call pleased, and new demigods are needed to replace those lost in the Titan War, and they're going to need some help from some certain Hunter friends of Artemis, never realising how similar their stories are. Rated for language. Percabeth. AU. Sequel to "Not All Monsters are Legends".
1. Do You Hear the Half-Bloods Sing

(A/N): This is something of a Supernatural AU, in which Sam did kill Lilith/release Lucifer, so the Apocalypse arc of season 5 isn't in play. Otherwise, they would be too busy hunting down the horseman at the exact time of this story to really devote any time to my plotline. I can't reconcile that plot, unfortunately. You try writing something like this into the plot a month before Swan Song happens.

**Chapter 1: In Which Percy Jackson is a Dork and Sam is a Puppy  
**

"This is the dumbest thing I've ever heard."

"You mispronounced 'best'."

"They're not going to take it well. I'm telling you, they didn't seem like the kind of guys who could take a joke."

"It's April Fools' Day. The one day of the year when every last person on Earth lives by the motto, 'Trust No-one'. If they're not expecting a joke today, they're living their lives wrong."

"Say that again with a consecrated round put through your skull and maybe I'll listen."

Percy sighed. Annabeth had been carping on about this for the last ten minutes, and it was almost to the point where he was considering giving in just to make her happy. Almost. The joke was just too good. He never got to do this sort of thing around people anymore. Why let a perfectly good prank go to waste? And besides, it wasn't like it wasn't going to serve a functional purpose. Annabeth just thought that Hunters wouldn't like surprises.

Percy was of the opinion that surprising people who didn't like surprises was the best way to start your day. Especially if it was April Fools' Day.

Okay, so maybe Percy just wanted to be as far away from Camp Half-Blood as possible that day. It just wasn't safe. The Stoll brothers? April Fools'? Anyone within three miles would sweat bullets at the mere thought. Best to get outside the blast radius while they still could.

It had been almost two weeks since Percy and Annabeth had returned from Olympus, bearing the news that Zeus was an actual three-year-old (which surprised no-one) and he had closed the gates of Olympus and cut off all contact with Camp Half-Blood (which was considerably more surprising, and not in the good way). After a nasty run-in with one kidnapper/rapist/murderer and one demon of the new religion, Percy had been… in a bad way. To put it lightly. He'd been ill, then kidnapped, then had the tar beaten out of him, then groped, then gotten pneumonia, and then unceremoniously dumped outside the elevator of the Empire State Building. It hadn't been a good week. Now, with some time elapsed, he had to admit that he was relishing being back on his feet. His breathing was all but back to normal, and what small coughs he still had were just regular allergies, not the soul-crushing throat-tearing variety that had plagued him before. The best part had been when he'd finally been deemed well enough to go for ambrosia and nectar. They'd healed his broken ribs and wrist almost instantly. He had taken the opportunity to spin Annabeth around in a foxtrot (at one point the Aphrodite cabin had decided that everyone should learn ballroom dancing for no particular reason), just to bask in his ability to move again. That, and he really liked swan-dipping her, for all that she usually smacking him for thinking he could get away with it.

Now, with him being as healthy as he was going to get, they needed to act.

Without divine protection, the demigods were not necessarily defenceless, but they were definitely more vulnerable than ever before. With the task of getting as many new half-bloods to camp alive as possible, it was decided that satyrs just weren't cutting it. Oh, they'd still do the part of their jobs that involved locating and confirming demigods. They just needed someone with a bit more muscle to do the part of the job that involved protecting them.

Which meant Hunters.

Percy had had no idea what Hunters were before Annabeth told him. Actually, even with what Annabeth had told him, he still wasn't one hundred percent sure. He had supposedly met a couple, but he'd been delirious with fever at the time and didn't remember a thing. Well, maybe one thing. He remembered two huge hulking dudes and that was it. "Tall" didn't exactly seem like the entire width and breadth of the job description, though.

"You barely knew 'em for two hours, Annabeth. What makes you so sure they're all like that? Or, for that matter, what makes you think you know them well enough that you'd know how they'd react to a joke?" he asked.

"Hmph. I know them because I broke into their motel room, went through their stuff, and read their internet search history, Percy. Don't get smart with me," Annabeth said.

Percy froze. Slowly, he turned to stare wide-eyed at her.

"What?"

"…You went through their internet search history?"

"Yes, and I don't want to remember half the things I saw there, okay? Why?"

Percy shook his head, a pained look on his face. "There's a line, Annabeth. There are certain things one simply doesn't do in polite society."

"And yet you had no problem with me breaking into their motel."

"Nope."

"Must be nice to have such a flexible morality."

"Oh, it is." Percy ducked the shoe thrown at him. "You're going to have to pick that back up yourself, you know."

Annabeth grumbled for a short while, but quieted down. "But, Percy? You know why I'm worried, right?"

"They have lots of guns?" Percy guessed.

"And knives. And research. And talismans. And charms. And spell-books and witchcraft and _a whole lot of very-much-loaded guns_," Annabeth said. "They're not what I would call friendly with the supernatural crowd, and like it or not, you and I fit that bill."

Percy paused. "They helped you save my ass, right?"

She sighed. "They did."

"Then they can't be all bad." He reached out and pulled her close, pressing a short kiss to her cheek. "Have a little faith in the human race, okay? Or, if you can't do that, have some faith in me. I've no plans to skip out on you for any reason, you know."

"I know."

Percy smiled at her.

"Still don't know why you want to be in an aquarium tank when they come in."

"Because it's kick-ass. Also, bullets don't travel well in water. I saw it on Mythbusters," Percy said.

Annabeth slammed her palm into her forehead. Her boyfriend was the world's biggest dork and if it got him killed, she wouldn't be the least bit surprised.

* * *

Sam and Dean were en route.

It had been the weirdest thing. They'd just finished up a hunt for a skinwalker (creepy sons of bitches) and were planning on heading down south. After all, the summertime was usually the most hunt-heavy season, what with all the tourists and vacationers going conveniently missing with nobody to look for them. Vamps in particular always thought they could get away with it better in the summer. Maybe they'd try to get a head-start on the crowds and get started in the spring this year.

Then the email had come. It had come from a simple gmail no-reply account, and it had come to the email Sam specifically reserved for contact between hunters and those affiliated with the trade. Unfamiliar emails didn't just pop up in Sam's inbox, but there it was, clear as day. He'd been prepared to delete it without reading until something about the address seemed familiar. Just a little, but still. Who was "_achase3153_" anyway? He'd read the stupid, suspicious thing.

It was a good thing he had.

Both Sam _and_ Dean remembered Annabeth Chase, the crazy girl who had broken into their room because her boyfriend had gone missing, then single-handedly ganked a demon without harming its vessel. One didn't simply forget about people as universe-defying as Annabeth. At first he wondered how in the hell she'd gotten ahold of his Hunters' email, then remembered: she'd been alone with his laptop for God-knew-how-long. Of course she would have poked her nose in his email. It's what he would have done, anyway, if only to relieve boredom.

The letter had been simple and concise.

"_Hello, Sam and Dean._

"_You may or may not recall me and my boyfriend, Percy Jackson, from a few weeks ago. I don't think I ever expressed proper thanks for your help in finding him, so let me get it out of the way now: thank you so very much. Without you, I don't think he'd be alive today to help me write this letter._

"_There is a new matter, however, that we need to discuss, and not just you two and me. We're going to need you to contact every Hunter you know, and maybe even a few you don't. Get the word out. There is a massive case happening right under your noses, and it has been there for almost three thousand years._

"_I can't speak about it in detail here, but I will explain everything to anyone who is interested in helping. I will say this: children are dying. I'd like to stop it. I fondly hope we can all agree about that one._

"_If so, please come to the attached location April 1, 2010, at 000 hours, if at all possible. Even if you can't make it, please spread the word. We're going to need all the help we can get._

"_Eternally Grateful, Annabeth Chase."_

The address attached turned out to be, of all things, a public aquarium in New York, which kind of made some sense because that was where Annabeth and Percy lived.

"Smells trap-ish," Dean commented when he read it. "You think somebody else wrote this?"

Sam shook his mop of unruly hair. "I don't think so, Dean. We talked a little when we met last and the letter definitely sounds like her. She wrote it."

"Then somebody made her write it."

"She's smart. She would have found a way to clue us in that it's a trap."

"It's on April Fools' Day. That ain't clue enough for you?" Dean asked, taking a swig from a beer.

"Too obvious. Not her style."

Dean snorted. "Shesh. Know a girl ten minutes and think you've got her pegged, huh, Sammy?"

"It's Sam, and it was three hours, not ten minutes."

"Ooh. Forgive me, wise and powerful one. I have sorely underestimated your powers of peering into the souls of teenaged girls."

"Shut up, asshole."

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

"So it's settled?"

"What's settled?"

"That we're ignoring this?"

Sam started. "The hell we are, Dean! It's serious! And besides, you _know_ Annabeth was raised Hunter like us. She wouldn't bullshit us and you know it."

"And if we lead a bunch of our guys into a trap? What then?" Dean fixed him with a stare. "I don't want their blood on my hands, Sam."

"Okay, so you don't trust her."

"Damn straight I don't."

"Just trust me, Dean," Sam said.

"Yeah; like your track record is so good with girls." He held up a hand and began to tick off fingers. "Meg, Ruby, that one time you almost banged Lilith-"

"I wasn't gonna!"

"Not the point. My point is that when women throw you for a loop," Dean said.

"They do not."

"All they have to do is bat their eyelashes and you are suckered right into their claws, you big puppy, you."

"Annabeth didn't bat her eyelashes at me. She's also made it pretty damn clear she's devoted to her boyfriend, and for another thing… _ew_! She's ten years younger than me Dean! You think I'm a cradle-robber?"

"Okay, I'll grant you that one." Dean winced. "I just realised I'm almost twice her age. Ouch."

"Feeling old, huh?"

"Yeah. Can't say I like it."

"So, we're going to this thing, whether you like it or not, and we're bringing backup. Pack your walker, grandpa, 'cause we're heading to New York," Sam said, his tone final.

Dean just downed the rest of his beer. Arguing with Sam when he was like this was going to get him nowhere, anyway.

* * *

(A/N): So, first chapter of the sequel to Not All Monsters Are Legends. This is going to be a somewhat more humour-heavy fic than NaMaL was, as you might be able to tell. This time around, nobody's dying. _Yet._ (Haha, just kidding, because I actually have no idea what's going to happen past the next, like, two chapters so what am I doing even starting this without a concrete plan oh man I'm nine kinds of screwed and I deserve it for being stupid and not planning ahead.)

The title is a joke on the whole part where France used to have a Revolution every other week, basically. The French are never happy with their government_. _But then, is anyone? If you can't figure out the basics of the plot based solely on that information, then I just don't know what to tell you.

Reviews are wonderful! Not kidding, though, I need ideas for what the hell I'm going to do for this thing, otherwise you're not getting chapters just because _there is no fleshed-out plot_. *cries*


	2. Lost in the Pits of Tartarus

Back from the dead, babies. Finals week is almost over, and then I'll have more free time than I know what to do with.

* * *

The Impala pulled over to the curb a block or so away from the Aquarium. Dean had said it was just 'as an extra precaution'. Sam had rolled his eyes.

Sam actually couldn't place why he had such faith in this. Suspecting traps was normal for them. Granted, humans weren't often the ones setting traps, but it still happened, and Hunters still needed to stay on their guard. That was an absolute that John had drilled into their heads ever since Mary died, and there was no forgetting it. Don't trust anyone; don't trust anything; assume everything's a trap; carry a big damn gun; don't forget the salt or holy water; ammo's cheap and life's expensive; make sure your brother doesn't do anything stupid. The list of crap went on and on. So why was his brain overriding everything he'd been taught?

Annabeth had been… kinda homey, to be honest. She was a Hunter woman, and they were of a totally different breed from your run-of-the-mill women and girls on the street. Normal girls didn't have that dangerous look in their eyes. They didn't carry supernatural weapons. They didn't speak so sharply. They didn't have the economy of movement that a seasoned fighter did. They didn't plan their attire with combat in mind, securing flyaway things like hair or earrings. They didn't stay emotionally distant like Hunters did. Hunters knew that you might be dead tomorrow. Normal girls didn't quite understand that. There was nothing wrong with normal girls – they just weren't anything remotely like Annabeth. Annabeth and Jo were actually a lot alike, Sam thought. Same blonde hair, same don't-you-dare-feed-me-shit attitude, same willingness to grab a weapon and get to work. Same smarts. If he had to pick out a difference, it would probably be experience. Despite Jo's elder status, she hadn't been out in the field much. She wanted to prove herself, still a little bit of a greenhorn since her mother kept her at home whenever possible. Annabeth looked like she'd seen far too much already. She wasn't eager for a fight, but wary of it. Expecting it. There was still something of a young woman trying to prove to her elders that she knew her shit and was proud of her skills, but there wasn't that recklessness to prove it that Jo had. Both felt like family was the thing. Both were true Hunter stock, the sort of people the Winchester boys had grown up around all their lives. Somehow, in Sam's brain, that meant Annabeth was definitely someone to trust.

Obviously, he was going to pack some holy water and a knife just in case. Only an idiot wouldn't. Annabeth had been having trouble with demons last he'd heard, and possession was always a concern.

"So, we planning for a demon? You got the exorcism in your noggin or do I have to grab the book?" Dean asked, exiting the parked car.

"I remember it just fine. But seriously Dean, I don't think we have anything to worry about."

"I'll believe it when I see it, Sammy. I just friggin' wish the Aquarium would've closed earlier so we could've snuck in and doodled a couple devil's traps."

"There's water everywhere, Dean. What would have used that couldn't get washed away the minute they used their telekinesis?" Sam asked.

"It's the principle of the thing. I'd just feel a little better about it if we were reasonably prepared is all. I don't like being the last one to show up to a party and caught left-footed," Dean said.

The Aquarium at last was visible. Too many trees and nonsense had obscured it from view before. It was a thoroughly unimpressive building. New York was a bit too cramped of a city to get fancy unless you had truly exorbitant amounts of money, so it was to be expected. There was only one car in the parking lot.

"What the hell?" Dean muttered.

"What?"

"Look at the roof of the car, man."

Sam did. It looked a little dented towards the front. He squinted. It looked dented in four spaces.

"Are those…?"

"I think they're hoof prints, dude. How do you think they got a _horse_ up there? I mean, you can tell they tried to fix it, like, send it in for repairs and all that, but… damn. Never mind getting the horse up there, how'd they get it back _down_?" Dean said.

"Carefully? I don't know. Maybe the horse just jumped off. They've got pretty strong legs, you know."

"I couldn't tell you."

"Are we going to go in, or marvel at the crappy patch job someone did after a horse attacked their car?" Sam asked.

"Where would you even _find_ a horse in New York? I mean, I'm coming, duh, but this whole thing smells –"

"I swear to God, if you say 'fishy', I'm punching you."

"Oh my God, I didn't even think about the pun. Now that you mention it though, it's pretty great."

"Pretty awful."

"Same deal."

Sam groaned and decided that ploughing steadily towards the Aquarium entrance was the only way to get Dean to focus on the important things. The horse mystery was weird, yes, but if that was Annabeth's car, they'd have answers faster if they just asked her.

Somebody had jammed a doorstopper in the main entrance, so they didn't need to pick the lock for once. "Thoughtful of her," Dean muttered. They still had to jump the turnstiles, but that was no hardship. The lights were all down, presumably to keep light from getting to the glass front of the Aquarium and altering nosy neighbours of clandestine meetings. Little old ladies were the worst. Why they felt the need to check their windows for suspicious activity every ten minutes boggled the mind.

"Where are we supposed to be going in here?" Dean asked.

"Over by the turtle tank, according to the follow-up email. Check the directory."

"If I have to walk up any stupid stairs to get to it, I'm not going to be happy."

Sam rolled his eyes. They were getting quite a workout. "It's on the first floor. E hall."

"And the food court is right next door. High-fives all around," Dean said.

"It's not going to be open."

"Wish I could say the same for your buzzkill of a mouth, Sammy."

"…That was actually pretty good."

"Thanks. I try."

E hall luckily wasn't too far removed from the entrance. Everything was clearly marked, and that was a nice change. All too often, they'd had to go into people's homes or office buildings without any blueprints or directions or anything. The convenience was refreshing.

At the entrance to E hall, Dean pulled at Sam's arm. "Get out your knife."

"Dean, I –"

"I know your spidey sense isn't telling you anything bad's going down, but I do not like taking chances. Get out your knife."

Anything to shut Dean up.

The hall was anticlimactically empty of anyone at all. Sam felt Dean tense. Yeah, okay, it was a little weird. Annabeth was supposed to meet them here. Where was she? If it really was a trap, Dean was going to be insufferably smug. Sam was going to have to be stuck in a car with that. It was going to suck.

"Shit! Sam!" Dean said, racing over to one of the tanks. "Help me out here! Jesus!"

Sam's eyes widened when he saw. There was a kid at the bottom of the tank, a large stone over his stomach keeping him in place. His eyes were closed, his body unmoving. His black hair floated eerily in the water. He rushed over, but… what could they even do? The teenager looked… kind of dead. There wasn't much you could do at that point.

"Dean. Dean, is that… the Jackson kid?"

Dean started a little, then took a closer look. "Shit, I think it is. Annabeth's boyfriend? This poor son of a bitch doesn't catch many breaks, huh?"

"Do you think this is what she meant? Like, something's been hunting them down specifically? Maybe she sent him ahead of her and he got ambushed or something," Sam said. His stomach sank with every word. They were in the Hunting business to save people. Why couldn't they just stay saved?

And then Percy's eyes opened.

Dean let out a high-pitched, undignified yelp and damn near fell over. Sam twitched like an electrical current had passed through him, profanities spewing out of him at volume.

"What the _fuck_?" Dean growled, pulling his knife back out. "Sam?"

"I don't know what's going on, man."

Percy looked unconcerned, rubbing at his face and actually _yawning_. While underwater. He removed the rock and swiftly rose to the surface of the tank. His head, somehow completely and inexplicably dry, popped out over the top. He grinned and waved cheerily at them.

"The fuck was that?" Dean snapped. "What _are_ you?"

"If I were less modest than I am, I'd say awesome, but I don't think that's the answer you're looking for," Percy said.

"No smartass answers. What. Are. You. You can't be human."

Percy screwed up his face in concentration. "That's kind of a hard one to affirm or deny. Is there anyone else coming? I'd prefer to tell the whole thing only once, if that's okay with you."

"Nobody else. Just us," Dean said quickly. Sam shot him a look. They actually _had_ contacted a few other Hunters through Bobby, and around five or so had offered to come. They obviously hadn't shown up yet, but that wasn't to say they never would.

The lines of Percy's body hardened. He pulled himself out of the water, making the landing perfectly after a twenty-foot drop, dry as a bone. "Just two, huh? That's… well, it's not great, but anything helps," he muttered.

"Helps with what?" Sam said. Dean was going to make a big stink out of unnecessary things if Sam let him.

"We – me and my kind, I mean – are in something of a spot of trouble. A big one. Big demon problem and we haven't got the resources to deal with it. Hunters are a great resource. We were going to see if we couldn't hire you guys to help out. It's kind of a big problem, though. Wide-spread. We're probably going to need more than just you guys. No offense! I'm certain you're great at your job and all…" Percy said. The poor kid looked like he was flailing around for something positive to say.

It was strange. The last time Sam and Dean had seen Percy Jackson, he'd been on the brink of death, pale and ill and hallucinating from the fever that had kept trying to put him in a coma. The difference between the weak, small child who couldn't stand and the young man who radiated a self-assured kind of strength was astronomical. His eyes. That was another thing Sam had missed, given that they had been closed when he'd last seen the boy. His eyes were such a bright shade of greenish-blue, they almost glowed. When he looked too hard, he swore he could feel his feet moving out from under him, like he was trying to get his sea legs and failing. The whole experience was dizzying and Sam couldn't say he liked it.

"Where's Annabeth?" Sam asked.

"Getting Chinese takeout. We figured if you guys came all the way out here, we may as well feed you," Percy said, grateful for the conversational line tossed to him.

Dean finally relaxed. "Okay, now you're talking."

"Really? _Really_, Dean?" Sam asked.

"Dude, they're going to feed us. Does that sound like a trap to you? Who goes through the trouble of getting takeout for people they're trying to kill? I'm sold," Dean said. He caught the look his little brother gave him. "What? It's sound logic."

"Never mind the whole weird underwater breathing thing," Sam said.

"Oh, hey. Yeah, what was that all about, anyway?"

Percy flashed them an asshole-and-I-know-it kind of grin. "I don't get to show off much. And it's April Fools'. If I didn't screw with you even a little bit, I'd have to hand in my Terrible Person Card, and we can't have that."

"Yeah, but how can you do that?"

"I really should wait for Annabeth," Percy said. "She'll want to be here so she can correct me when I'm inevitably wrong."

"Wow. You are such a good boyfriend," Dean mused.

"Oh, she'd never put up with my shenanigans if I weren't."

"Yeah. She'd probably kill you."

"What do you mean, 'probably'?"

"I'll buy that."

And with that, a great crashing noise could be heard from the main lobby.

* * *

(A/N): Shittiest transition I've probably ever written, but remind me to care when I am not dead from finals week. I will probably rewrite parts of this so they don't suck later on, too. I guess I just figured you have been waiting for an update for far too long to leave you hanging.

I've started reading Homestuck. I'm on Act 5 and it still makes sense. Am I doing something wrong, or...?


End file.
